All For You
by betterforwear2009
Summary: Post HBP. Uncertain about his future, Harry Potter, along with his two best friends, set out on the quest Dumbledore left behind. As he gets closer to fulfilling the prophecy, Harry will receive help from people he never expected. Cannon pairings
1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:** Hello all and welcome to the first chapter of my story, All For You. I know Deathly Hallows has come and past, but who says I can't put my version out here? Most of the ideas in here came to me before the book's release and I wrote this chapter beforehand as well. Although I did use some Wizarding World info and such disclosed in Deathly Hallows, any other similarities between this story and the actual book seven are purely coincidental.

**July 29- I made some minor edits to this chapter that contradicted later events in this story.**

Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

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**All For You**

**Chapter One: The Beginning of the End**

To the average person, although it had seen its fair share of anomalies throughout the years, the village of Godric's Hollow was a nice place to settle down. It was small, quiet, and relatively crime-free. However, if you were to ask certain people of its already small population, they would tell you the same thing.

They would point to a spot sandwiched between two existing houses and say, "Now, if I do recall, there used to be a house right there. Then, one day, about sixteen or so years ago, I met a rather nice couple with a small boy, who couldn't have been more than a couple months or so old, who were interested in buying that house. Then, a few days later...poof! It was gone. Just like that!"

There were many theories as to why the house had just disappeared. Most of which revolved around the family who bought the house being abducted by extraterrestrials ("Which was all the rage back then") or the family actually being extraterrestrials and using the house to go home ("You know what I mean!") But the stranger thing was an event that happened many months later.

"I remember it very vividly. It was Halloween night, and there was this loud explosion, and some smoke, but we thought it was simply some Halloween pranks. The next day, however, there were these...people! They were some of the strangest people I've ever seen! They wore cloaks...and hats! Like they had forgotten Halloween was over. And they all had the same, solemn look on their face, like someone had died or something..."

But that was years and years ago.

Soft, white rays of the early morning sun peeked through the canopy of trees, reflecting off of the droplets of dew on the leaves, while the large trees made it difficult for one to see and maneuver them self around sufficiently. The forest of Godric's Hollow was never a popular hiking site, for its lack of wildlife and numerous blockages in the main trail didn't make it a favorite for most hikers. However, on this day, you could see two, strangely-clothed men walking through it.

One, who apparently was leading the other, walked with an air of purpose in front of the other. His jet-black eyes looked over his surroundings, as if searching for something. He had long, greasy black hair that fell in curtains around his pale, pallid face, his mouth turned in a slight grimace, while his slightly torn black robes billowed behind him. Following in his wake was a younger, shorter boy who looked even more disgusted. He looked almost sickly, to be honest. His pointed face was pale, almost grey, and his tousled blond hair was dripping with water. The boy's robes were severely torn, dirty, and in some places wet. He walked with an air of a once fine-manicured young man, but as he tripped on a large tree root, it looked as though his situation had suddenly become compromised.

"For the last time, _what _are you doing?" the boy said as he got up, vainly brushing off his robes and frowning at another large spot of water on his pants leg.

The other, not stopping at his charge's fall, replied in a voice of both annoyance and hesitation, "Following orders."

"Whose?" the boy asked hotly. "Because they obviously not the Dark Lord's!"

"Whose orders I am following are neither your business, nor your worries."

"Oh yeah, like I really worry about whether or not I'm walking to my death or not..." the young man snapped, his voice dripping with thick sarcasm."Why are you even doing this? I mean, why didn't we go to the celebration—"

"Because it would've been the last thing you ever did," the other replied icily, still not meeting the boy's gaze. "Do you not understand the seriousness of the situation you put yourself in? Do you not understand the immense danger not only you, but your entire family is in?"

"No. Why?"

"You did not kill Albus Dumbledore!" the greasy-haired man said, exasperated, finally facing the pale blonde, sounding as though he was trying to let off some steam.

"Yeah, well, you made sure of that..." the boy replied.

"Do not speak of things you do not understand, Draco."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the boy identified as Draco practically yelled.

"I made an unbreakable vow last year, if you do not remember! I promised with my life that I would carry out your task should you fail--"

"Oh, so this was to save _your _skin! I see how it is!" Draco sneered.

"--And now that the Dark Lord most likely knows this fact, your mother probably be dead by the time I am reunited with him!"

Draco said nothing. He got (if it was even possible) even paler. He ran a hand through his lank, almost white hair, and sighed, with his eyes tightly closed. This seemed to have struck a nerve.

"I...I should have never...now....she..." Draco looked heartbroken. "I should have never agreed to this..."

"What's done is done. There are sacrifices that must be made."

"_Sacrifices_," murmured Draco with a slight laugh. "I never understood that concept, and they're my _parents._ You may not care about anyone, but I do."

The other man said nothing. They continued for several minutes, when the man leading stopped suddenly. Draco did the same. They had reached a small clearing.

"We are here."

Draco looked around.

"I don't see anything."

The greasy-haired man pointed to a spot some twenty meters away.

"The house is right there," he said.

Draco raised an eyebrow, followed by the other. Surely enough, a house _was _there. It had materialized right after the words were spoken. It looked as it was rather makeshift, but livable. The building looked to be about two stories, made out of stone, very few windows, and no chimney.

"Come."

Draco followed the older man towards the front door. The greasy-haired man took his knuckles and knocked several times on the senescent door. Several moments later, a man's voice spoke from within.

"Identify yourself!"

The greasy-haired man cleared his throat and spoke clearly.

"It is I, Severus Snape, bringing Draco Malfoy."

The clink of several chains coming out of their holds could be heard from within, and seconds later the door opened, and a man appeared in the door frame. He looked to be about middle-aged, but due to a large amount of lines on his face caused by stress, looked years older. His frizzy black hair was so long it was tied back in a ponytail.

"Ah," said Snape, a small smirk forming on his lips. "I was told to be surprised. Am I really to believe that you've been cooped up in this, ah, _humble_ little abode for so long?"

The man glared at Snape

"I've only been here since The Dark Lord returned."

Snape gave him a look of mock concern, "Pity."

"So, I hear you've renounced the old ways, Snape. What's this? Tired of playing the spy and finally decided to choose your side...after everything Dumbledore did for you..."

"My allegiance should be made plain to you. If you have any uncertainties, then perhaps you aren't as well informed as I thought you would be," Snape told the man simply.

The man raised an eyebrow at Snape, and then looked at Draco. "So...this is Lucius Malfoy's son, then? The one who we have to babysit while you go off playing the Dark Lord's pet?"

"Last time I checked, you haven't exactly been helping anyone, have you?" snapped Snape.

The man glared daggers at Snape. "I've tried."

"Unfortunately, I suppose it's hard to believe the words of a dead man…"

"Look, I don't like you, I never have, and I never will. I'm just doing whatever I can to help the cause, to make sure my promises weren't in vain," snapped the man.

"This seems to be a trend, doesn't it?" Snape alleged.

The man glared once more, utter dislike painted in his eyes.

Draco looked utterly confused.

"Whoa, wait! What is going on? What do you mean _babysit_...?"

Snape rounded on the boy.

"You're going to be staying here for a while, Draco."

"What? How long?" Draco cried, affronted.

"A while," said the man gravely.

"And how long is a while, exactly?"

The man looked at the boy, slightly annoyed. "Has anyone told you that you're a right little bugger?"

Draco seemed to be seething. "And what makes _you _think that I am just going to sit around while he—"he waved his arm in Snape's direction, "—gets to go off, having all the fun?"

"Because you're life depends on it."

Rolling his eyes, Draco glanced at the man, "who _are _you, anyway?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he replied, a smirk on his face.

Snape gave one final glance at the mysterious male in the door frame. He turned to leave.

"I would keep an eye on the outer edges of the forest...and the town. You never know who you'll find," he said as a final word of advice. "And Draco?"

Malfoy did not reply.

"Do _not _put your life in danger. Your mother sacrificed her own for you, and I, especially do not want it to be in vain. I made a promise to keep you safe, and I intend to do so."

"Whatever."

"Hey, Snape, wait!" called the man.

"Yes?"

The man got close to Snipe's face, and then whispered:

"Look, whose side are you really on?"

Snape gave one final smirk.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

And with a _CRACK_, he disapparated, leaving the man and Draco behind.

And miles away, minutes later, Snape would find himself in a large room he only assumed was once used for dining. The long table was draped in a blood red velvet table with black accents, while a large stone fireplace provided the room with a dim glow. There were many dark-robed people sitting in chairs, others leaning against the wall, every one of them still and silent.

"Ah, Severus, I see now you have decided to join us," came a cold, high-pitched voice from the head of the table. Snape found himself being stared at by two crimson, cat-like eyes, while the rest of his pale, hairless, serpentine face looked quite relaxed. His long, spidery fingers were crossed elegantly in his lap and though he seemed calm, Snape could sense this _man's _distaste.

"I am terribly sorry My Lord. It seems young Draco has...escaped."

Several hisses were heard from around the table.

"I spent several hours looking for him; he interfered with my side-along apparition. We ended up miles away from here. He then tried to overpower me and get away, and unfortunately, succeeded."

The man whom Snape addressed as "My Lord" smirked.

"Ah. See here, Narcissa. It seems your dear son was well capable of getting away, but not completing the simple task I gave him..."

He had addressed an extremely pale woman with long blond hair who sat to his right, the fear easily seen on her face. She spoke nothing.

The snake-like man continued.

"You see, Severus, I have heard from several eye-witnesses that you took on the task _yourself_ of murdering Albus Dumbledore. Am I not correct?"

Snape did not hesitate. "Correct, My Lord."

The Dark Lord gave a lipless, mirthless smirk. He continued to speak in a calm, but sinister voice.

"For so long, I doubted your true allegiance, Severus. For years I had always believed it my mistake of allowing you to go into Dumbledore's employ. You have such talent, such skill; such a _waste _on their side. It would have been quite the shame to have to kill you had you gotten in my way. I had thought you had forever left me that you had— ah — discovered_ your true colors_. For obvious reasons, I was not surprised that you did not come when summoned after my return. I thought that perhaps, like Igor Karkaroff, had fled. However, when you did return, it was to say quite the shock, but your reasoning was understandable. Yet still I doubted you.

"And then you explained to me Dumbledore's reforming of the Order of the Phoenix, and his supreme trust in you. For the first time in years, I had a spy right under the nose of both Hogwarts and the Order. Dumbledore never doubted his trust in you, did he? You play your cards quite well, Severus…Unlike _some_ people."

He glanced over to a small, round man in the corner of the room. Several of the people in the room sniggered. The smirk on his face widened.

"Dumbledore was an old fool. That is what led to his destruction. I commend you, Severus. It seems, at last, that you have proven your loyalty."

His smirk faded.

"Yet Bellatrix here has told me otherwise."

Narcissa's head snapped up. The woman sitting directly across from her shifted in her seat. Unlike Narcissa, Bellatrix had long, slightly matted black hair, heavily lidded eyes, and that gave her a maddened look.

"Bellatrix has told me that last summer, you and Narcissa made an Unbreakable Vow. An Unbreakable Vow, which, unless I am quite mistaken, made you the substitute for Dumbledore's murder. Am I not correct?"

Snape hesitated for a second. "Yes...Yes, My Lord, it is true."

Narcissa gave the tiniest of nods, horror etched on her pale face.

"Tut, tut, Narcissa...And I expected so much more from you...it seems that the Malfoy clan has provided nothing but disappointment these past few years..."

Fear was beginning to show on the woman's face. She began to shake.

"Please, My Lord, _please_, I had to...my only son..." squeaked Narcissa.

"Ah, such devotion in such _wrong _places. Am I not right, Bellatrix?" the Dark Lord motioned the dark woman to his left.

"Indeed, My Lord..." muttered Bellatrix, not meeting her sister's eyes.

"You see," he continued. "I never expected Draco to fulfill his duty...But Narcissa....Your lack of faith is disturbing. Lord Voldemort has no room for acts like this."

With that, Voldemort stood up, and faced his followers. Narcissa was shaking madly now.

"This new regime, this _Beginning of the End_ as I have dubbed it, is one that stands for power and superiority. It is almost certain that the Order of the Phoenix now lies in shambles, with its leader dead. But we cannot back down, oh no. We must attack in bigger numbers, and not show any signs of weakness. We have made allies out of a very willing clan of vampires, and our raid on Azkaban in the near future will not only prove us as an unstoppable force. However, we must pluck away many of the things that could cause…_tribulations _in this time."

"As for you, Severus," he motioned Snape. "I did not intend you to kill Dumbledore. It seems that your true allegiance has been made. You will be greatly rewarded."

A bit of color seemed to return to Snape's face.

"Thank you, My Lord," said Snape, bowing.

Voldemort then pulled from his pocket a long wand. The air in the room seemed to drop several degrees as several of the Dark Lord's followers' breaths caught in their throats.

"When we break into Azkaban, I plan on dealing with Lucius. As for you, Narcissa...I am long finished with your family's mistakes..."

He raised his wand.

"_Avada Kedavra_."

With a look of shock, Narcissa fell out of her chair, her face drawn and pale. She was dead.

Silence fell amongst the Death Eaters. Bellatrix sat, still as a statue, staring at the body on the floor, face stony.

"Such a shame," declared her sister's killer. "Lord Voldemort has no room for disloyalty. I cannot have followers like Draco Malfoy in my command. Without them, we can not fail. The Order of the Phoenix will be destroyed. Harry Potter will meet his end."

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**Authors Note: **Thats chapter one! Hoped that piqued your interest for this story somewhat... Chapter two hopefully coming very, very soon! 


	2. Almost There

**Author's Note:** Well, here's chapter two... Not too many people read chapter one, and I got no reviews for it either. I know this story is new. but I really would like people to read and review it. I love critiques, and I'd most likely respond to them. I also understand that many people won't want to read this because it's an AU Book 7 fic, but please know that this will get VERY different from Deathly Hallows in many ways that I don't think Jo would've done it. Hopefully this doesn't sound like I'm bragging...Oh well. I do plan on finishing this story as well, unlike many of the others on this site.

Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me.

Onward!

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**All For You**

**Chapter Two: Almost There**

About two months later, miles and miles away, in the smallest bedroom at Number Four, Privet Drive, a sixteen year old boy was enjoying a rare good night's sleep in his bed. The thin layers of covers were wrapped tightly around him, and through the light morning rays of sun poking through the blinds on his window, the only thing you would be able to see would be the mess of jet-black hair, for his face was hidden deep in the pillows. Overall, Harry Potter looked rather peaceful, which was quite the opposite of when he was awake. When he was having a peaceful sleep, he had no Dark Lord to fight. He didn't have to worry about the war that he had no idea what the outcome would be. If Harry could sleep like this every night, he would.

But that couldn't happen.

Slowly but surely, Harry Potter stirred. He turned, facing the ceiling, his tired green eyes open. He looked at the clock, which read eight twenty-nine. Deciding that he was well rested, he got out of bed, throwing the covers back. Walking over to the window, Harry stretched, and then put his round glasses on. With his vision coming into focus, he pulled the blinds up, and surveyed the cookie-cutter neighborhood.

Everything looked normal...if normality was something that really existed. He guessed, for a neighborhood of all-the-same, ignorant muggles like the one he had lived in for nearly sixteen years, the scene before him was ordinary. Number Six was mowing his already perfect, green lawn. Number Five was watering his. A mailman was delivering the daily post. Harry wished his life was as simple. Too bad it wasn't. As the reality of his life came back to him, Harry frowned, and then looked at the calendar on the wall. July thirtieth. At midnight, he would be seventeen. At midnight, he could do magic legally. At midnight, he would have to shed his childhood forever and begin the quest to end what Lord Voldemort had started eighteen years ago. And he would have to do it alone.

Well...not alone. He would have his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger at his side, like they had practically _begged _from him, but there were some things...some things he really would have to do alone. Things like killing the most powerful dark wizard in history. Harry promised himself that he would not, under any circumstance, put Ron of Hermione in any danger while they went on their search, but, as the memories of the last time he went searching for a Horcrux came rushing back to him, he felt slightly hesitant.

Then, unwillingly, the image of Albus Dumbledore getting blasted off the Astronomy Tower was played over in his mind.

It was still incredibly hard to imagine that Dumbledore was gone. Dead. _Dead._ Dumbledore. The greatest wizard alive had fallen because of his insane trust of a man who bore the mark of the enemy. A man who Harry himself had hated and never trusted a second. True, Severus Snape had had his moments where Harry was glad he existed, but now...? After Dumbledore had _pleaded _with him? After Dumbledore had nearly killed himself over nothing? While he was weakened and _unarmed_? Snape was nothing but a murderer; a cold and heartless murderer. And other than Voldemort, Harry had never felt that someone deserved to die more than him.

Shaking the hateful thoughts off, Harry got dressed and went downstairs. Based on the thunderous snores coming from the room next door, Harry's cousin, Dudley, was still asleep. Skipping the last few steps on the stairs, he walked into the kitchen.

As always, he would walk into the kitchen at the same time each morning during the summer holidays. He would see his large Uncle Vernon, hiding behind that morning's _Daily Mail_, and his horsey, thin-faced Aunt Petunia would be scraping eggs on a skillet on the stove. Then, she would look up, a look of disgust on her face, and bark in her sharp voice, "Why are you always up so early? It's not normal for people your age to be up this early? Dudley doesn't even get up until noon..."

He, like always, said nothing. He sat down in his chair without another glance at his aunt. Without another word, she slapped a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Wondering why on earth someone would _want _oatmeal when it was nearly one hundred degrees outside, Harry ate it nonetheless. He gave an ever-so-slight glance at his uncle, before he nearly dropped his spoon in shock.

The front-page headline read:

**Ministry Assures Public Safety After Prime Minister's Assassination Attempt **

"Er...Uncle Vernon?"

His uncle grunted in response, not looking up from his newspaper.

"May I...um...look at that for a second?"

This caused his uncle to look up from the paper, his bushy eyebrow raised.

"And why would you want to look at _our _news, boy?"

"Uh...well...that headline...it just seems...odd. I promise, it'll only be for a second..."

His uncle considered Harry for a moment.

"Fine," he grunted. He took the front page from the rest, handed it to Harry, then continued to read the section on stocks, muttering as he did so, _"...just skyrocketing, those are..."_

Harry looked at the article:

_ ...Many citizens have been questioning the safety of the country for the past year. This weekend's assassination attempt has only strengthened their queries. In a statement released by assistant to the Prime Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, "...We have been doing our part to ensure the safety of the citizens around us. We have caught the culprit behind the plot for the Prime Minister's life, and is in police custody as we speak, awaiting trial. As the Minister himself has said, we must not dwell on the past, but plan for a safer future..." Meanwhile, the secretary of defense has claimed that the assassination attempt was a "random act, and will not occur again."_

The rest of the article was continued on another page. Harry looked at the picture associated with the article. He could see the Prime Minister, his face pale, sitting next to a composed-looking Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry knew, although the rest of the muggle public did not, that Kingsley was a wizard, sent to ensure the safety of the Prime Minister by the Ministry of Magic. Something else caught Harry's eye:

**Strange Celestial Design Spotted in Night Sky **

_In the recent weeks, we have received many reports of supposed "Alien Signals" in the night sky. We now have visual evidence of this strange occurrence._

_ "It looks so ominous..." says Patricia Overmouth, who lives in a small, rural town. She provided us with the picture shown above. This only brings up the question: what exactly _is _it?_

_ Different people have different views. Many religious activists proclaim this as "Satan's Warning" or the "Mark of the Devil Himself!" but others, like paranormal investigator Phillip Westin, think otherwise._

_ "It's _obviously _the pure, hard evidence to the truth that I have been trying to tell all you for years...that extraterrestrial life is among us! We are not alone!"_

_ So, whatever this is, whether the evidence of future biblical war, aliens, or just some funky fireworks, this is a certainly an occurrence of cosmic proportions. _

This seemed to disturb Harry even more, for, above the short article was a black-and-white picture of the clear night sky, pierced with the image of a colossal skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. The Dark Mark. The muggles...of course, how _could _they possibly know the horror of what the Dark Mark meant...

"What's up with you...?" came a voice he recognized, but didn't hear his entrance. His cousin, Dudley had joined them at the table. The diet that the Smelting's school nurse had administered his cousin back in Harry's fourth year, along with some intense physical activity, had done good for Dudley. His fat had turned into muscle, and his large blond head seemed less enormous on his now-slimmer neck.

"Oh, _what_?" asked Harry. Never before had he heard such a tone from his cousin. Not a note of bitterness, resentment, or even folly was in his cousin's voice.

"You just look....er...never mind."

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, Harry put a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth. It tasted bland, but it didn't matter. The thought of going back to the Burrow the next day seemed to bring a whole new light to the situation he was in. Ron's brother, Bill, would be getting married next week. Even though he had been savaged by a werewolf the previous June, like his fiancé, Fleur, had said, "Ze show must go on."

The thought of seeing the family who might as well _be _his family warmed Harry's heart. But then came Ginny. The warm feeling was extinguished with a vengeance. He still felt terrible—no, it ripped Harry apart when he had to end his relationship with the youngest Weasley. He missed everything about her. Her flaming red hair he used to stroke, her big, beautiful brown eyes, her soft skin, her flowery scent, the soft lips he would give anything to press his against...

A long, lingering sigh escaped his lips as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

Uncle Vernon didn't look up. Aunt Petunia didn't look up from her magazine. Dudley looked at him for a moment, and then looked back at his bowl. Harry decided to make his statement more detailed.

"Forever."

This caused a response from all three Dursleys. They all looked at him, Uncle Vernon raised his eyebrows, and a look he had never seen appeared on his uncle's face. Aunt Petunia looked slightly worried. Dudley looked...sad?

"Who's taking you?" said Uncle Vernon.

"Mr. Weasley, you know; Ron's dad....um...You've met him before..." replied Harry uncomfortably. Indeed, the Dursleys did know the Weasleys, for the last time they had seen them, which was three years previously (though it seemed longer to Harry), Dudley had ended up having his tongue over magically charmed to a length of over three feet long.

"So then...where will you go?" asked Aunt Petunia in a quiet, small voice.

"Well," said Harry. "I plan on staying at the Burrow...that's Ron's house, for a while, then...well..." he trailed off. He had not thought of where he, Ron, and Hermione would stay while on their Horcrux hunt.

"I'll go off to Hog—my school," he lied flatly. Although he seriously doubted it, he didn't want the Dursleys to worry about him.

"And then what?" asked his aunt in the same tone she had used before.

"I really don't know...." said Harry. He didn't like to think about his post-Voldemort future. He wasn't even sure if he would have one.

While Aunt Petunia looked slightly solemn, her husband, on the other hand, looked overjoyed.

"What time?" he asked joyfully.

"I think eleven," said Harry.

"Jolly good then! Jolly good!" and with that, Uncle Vernon kissed his wife, grabbed his briefcase, and left the house, whistling ecstatically.

Aunt Petunia had not changed her position. Neither had her son.

"Erm..." muttered Harry."I guess I'll go pack then..."

He got up to leave the table.

"W-wait!" came an almost unrecognizable voice.

Almost at the stairs, Harry spun around at Aunt Petunia's proclamation. Never before, in almost sixteen years, had he seen his Aunt look at him in the way she was doing now. There was no crease between her eyebrows, not snobbish look on her face, and not a note of dislike in her voice.

Harry rose an eyebrow.

"I...I got a letter last month..." whimpered Aunt Petunia when she was a foot away from him. "From those _Order _people."

He inwardly winced. He had an idea of where she would take this.

"I head about that man that came here last summer...The one who dropped you off when you were a baby..." she continued.

So they had reached the topic that Harry hated to discuss, the one that made his blood boil and his eyes water up.

"So...he...He's really dead, then?"

Not meeting his aunt's gaze, Harry nodded.

"What'll happen now?" she asked.

He shrugged, not meeting his aunt's eyes.

"And you—you're not safe now...Are you? That man....The one that killed _her_…He wants to kill you too, right?"

Again, Harry nodded. Aunt Petunia looked like she wanted to say something to her nephew, but couldn't bring herself to do so.

"Look," he finally said, "Don't worry about me. I've got a plan. Voldemort...Well, he might not be around much longer...Not if _I _can help it, anyway."  
His aunt looked confused after that statement. She then looked at him again.

"I just...Don't want you to—to end up like _them_," she muttered.

Harry ran his hand through his hair.

"I try not to. I really do."

A little while later, Harry was laying down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. So, Aunt Petunia really _did _care about him...in a way. It was one of those things in his life that seemed to shock him in a very stoic way. It surprised him, he didn't expect it, but it couldn't make up for the years and years of dislike she had shown him. At some times, he wondered if the Dursleys pitied him. Harry could understand why; in their opinion, his life was one lonely heartbreak after another. But in his mind, he always pitied _them _for their lack of compassion. Harry had never understood the source of the hatred for their nephew, despite a family tiff. As a child, he had always wanted love. He wanted someone, someone who could say that they cared about him. It was one of the things he was grateful for when it actually came to him.

He still couldn't believe it. In fifteen hours, he would be seventeen. He thought back to the day he found out he was a wizard, and how young he had been then. How amazed he was at the world he was entering for the first time, the world he belonged in. How happy he was at the prospect of leaving Number Four, Privet Drive after ten years, of having friends for the first time in his life, friends who would remain loyal to him six years later. He had been so young, so innocent....

But even then, Harry had known the dangers of the wizarding world. He had learned about Lord Voldemort, who had killed his parents, as well as many other people. He had learned of people who had died for the cause of having him destroyed, and people who would die so he wouldn't. He had watched people perish before his very eyes; people, who didn't deserve to die. He had watched an innocent man fall to an injustice, and a guilty one walk free. He had watched an innocent boy die because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had watched his mentor, his role model, the greatest wizard ever to have lived _die _due to a deep betrayal.

Oh, how the world had changed.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry began to pack everything he owned in his trunk. He threw unused items away, cleaned out the loose floorboard, and trashed clothes that were far too small for him. He looked at his owl, Hedwig, who had been the only one who had witnessed the times of his time with the Dursleys since he had discovered his true life. The moment seemed very anti-climatic to Harry, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of anxiety and dread rising in his chest.

Was he sad of leaving? That was simple; no. He hated living at the Dursleys' since he was old enough to register that he was living with people who had loathed him from the start. He had felt nothing but _excitement _at the prospect of leaving his Aunt and Uncle's house each year, desperate to escape the family who had shown nothing but dislike for sixteen years.

Then, as plain as day, it hit him; he was scared. Why though? He had faced Voldemort time and time again and had not been killed yet. But then again, he had always thrown himself, face forward, into every fight. He was impulsive, and he accepted that. He wasn't scared of dying, no. But he _was_ scared of dying before he completed his task. He was scared of people living in a world with no hope, no savior, not saving grace. The second reason was probably the one thing was inevitable, if not just for him, but for everyone. That inevitability was that, in the end, people could die. People _would _die. People Harry cared about would die. Despite all his work, despite all his attempts to keep everyone safe, some of it would be in vain. He thought of Ginny and shuddered. He couldn't lose her. He wouldn't lose her. He'd die before he'd let that happen. But then, one thought came to him; what if one of them _did_ die? What if he died without letting her know just how much he cared for her? Ginny, who had fought with them at the Department of Mysteries. Ginny, who had fought just months ago at the battle at Hogwarts. Ginny, who had once been lying cold, pale, and unmoving on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets.

_No_, thought Harry, shaking his head. That was long ago. Ginny was stronger than that. The Ginny he knew now was _not _the same as the small girl who had been lured into the Chamber of Secrets by Tom Riddle. But still, that image haunted him. He would not let that happen to her. He simply wouldn't.

That image of Ginny seemed to stay with Harry for the rest of the day. When Uncle Vernon returned later that day, he was in a mood that was even happier than that of the morning.

"And, my dear boy, it's all thanks to you!" he chorused during dinner.

Harry returned to his room a little later, utterly bemused. He took one last glance at his room, which had his trunk, his Firebolt, and Hedwig's cage on one wall and a trash can filled to the brim on another, some old clothes and useless books stack next to it. Feeling somewhat satisfied with himself for once, he went to bed.

Then, in his solitude, the image of Ginny on the cold, wet floor of the Chamber of Secrets came into Harry's mind. She looked...older, though, like Ginny now. Her long, lank red hair oddly stuck out against her deathly pale skin. Harry felt fear and horror rise in the pit of his stomach. He heard a cold, high-pitched laugh behind him. And there was Lord Voldemort, in all his evil, snake-like glory.

"You couldn't save her, Harry..." he whispered, a mirthless smile appearing on his thin lips. "You can't save anyone. Nobody is safe from Lord Voldemort. Will you keep letting people die for you? It could be so simple to let it all go, you know. Who shall I kill next? The Mudblood?"

"No!" screamed Harry, but all that came out was a raspy moan. He wanted to run to Ginny's side, to comfort her, but he couldn't.

Voldemort laughed again. A flash of green light obscured his vision.

And then he woke up with a start, sitting up, his face sweating profusely. Breathing heavily, he ran a hand through his drenched hair and realized that it was just a dream. _Just a dream_. Ginny was alive, and at least _somewhat _well. Harry looked at the clock.

Eleven fifty-four.

He got up and quietly went to the bathroom across the hall from his room. He could hear both Dudley and Uncle Vernon's snores from the other rooms. Once in the bathroom, he went to the sink. Harry plugged the basin and ran cold water to the brim. Closing his eyes and holding his breath, he thrust his face into the water and left it there for a few moments. He brought his face up, gasping for breath. Looking up, Harry could see his pale, blurry visage reflected in the mirror. He blindly grabbed a towel and buried his face in it. He exited and walked back to his room. Once inside, he sat on his bed, his face in his hands. That dream was so real. He didn't want Ginny to suffer that fate. He was faced with two options: either cut things off with Ginny until the war ended, or enjoy what very well could be his last months alive with her...either put Ginny at risk or--

His thoughts were interrupted when a miraculously loud _BANG _erupted from outside. He could hear shouts. His heart stopped when he looked at his clock; midnight. Harry Potter was now seventeen, and the Death Eaters had decided to be the first ones to wish him a happy birthday.

* * *

**Author's Note: **There. Hopefully it's not choppy or cheesy sounding. Or rushed, for that matter. I'd like to see what you think, so please, please review! Chapter three's already written, and I'm about to go back over it and do some editing, so expect it probably either at the end of this week or early next.

PS: Wasn't the Half-Blood Prince movie rockin'?


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